


The other me

by InaRov



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Angst, Childish Harry Styles, Clones, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, Pining, Pining Harry, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:39:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29812011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InaRov/pseuds/InaRov
Summary: The man in the scarlet suit showed Harry a folder full of photographs of a man who looked just like him. Naked and with bruised skin."Do you know who he is?" Harry denied. "His name is Edward Cox, or subject W if you look for him in the company files; a 39-year-old prostitute. He currently survives thanks to an artificial respirator, but herpes has been developing into meningoencephalitis""Why are you telling me all this? Who are you? Why am I here?"The beautiful man then spoke."It is from him that we obtained genetic material to clone you."****Or the story of Dr. Malik and the clone Harry Styles through research towards a new step for humanity.
Relationships: Zayn Malik/Harry Styles
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	The other me

Harry's first memory was not the green fields, flowers, or church the doctors always asked for, neither were the blows Miss Smith gave her in the palm of her hands every time him whenever he did or said something wrong. No, his first memory was being sat on his bed of pink sheets and a bunch of old people, man, and women, standing around him waiting for any movement, whether it was a simple sneeze or a sad grimace, it didn't matter, because those persons in white robes wrote down each of his actions, even when he cried and what he most wanted was to be hugged and extended his arms to anyone, they all walked away from one step, two or even left him alone in his small wooden room for hours until he stopped emitting any sound. Always locked up. Always alone.

Over time, the constant studies and classes of manners and basic education persisted as everyone called him; he remembered Dr. Seuss's colorful books, so bright with yellow draining everywhere. He thought of chocolate mint ice cream or the constant voice of nurses, but always between four walls of gleaming brown, so when they told Harry he would go to a special place, he imagined himself finally leaving the wooden room to go to the beautiful places shown in the books on his shelf: the flower park, to the mechanical games or those candy shops where they sold all the treats that the curly young man adored, but instead, a nurse and two policemen escorted him to a huge gray building in the city center, led him to a white room where he was left alone for a long time; without music or anything he could entertain himself with, he could simply wander in his mind. When the clock set at 7:32 p.m. two men in tight suits entered; they did not knock on the door or speak before they could settle in front of him. One of them poured him a cup of tea from a teapot that came with them.

The man in a scarlet suit who sat in front of him possessed a cold, impassive look, dark eyes; behind him was a dark-skinned young man, still as a statue, beautiful as the piece of white material Harry had seen in the room before entering the white walls he was currently in. The figurine was a woman with her arms outstretched into the sky and a foot in the air, she was wearing a small slightly pink skirt: a ray of sunshine gave to it directly, so specks of dust dance next to her. The through of the small ballerina made it easier for Harry to breathe in front of those intimidating men.

"Good afternoon," the cold man spoke with an empty voice, "Can you tell me your name?”

"Harry...” his voice sounded trembling in his ears as if someone else was speaking for him. The cold man looked impatiently at him. “Harry Styles” the man pursed his lips.

"Do you know where you come from?”

"This morning I was in _British PHE_ labs...” Harry was babbling, his hands were shaking and the cold man kept staring at him.

"Do you know who this man is?”

A yellow folder was placed in front of Harry, there were photographs of a man just like him in it, a couple of years older perhaps, thin as a coin, he was completely naked and lying on a metal bed, with bruises on all the whitening skin, the hair was shaved on one side and the other side grew excessively long. He carried shiny pieces of metal over his face that go through the skin of his nose, eyebrows, ears, and so on: on his nipples, on the skin that covered the head of his penis.

_'Why is there so much metal? What's wrong with his skin? Why do I look like him'_ were questions that persisted in Harry's mind.

The man in photography seemed barely awake; in his crotch was obvious a kind of red swelling that made the curly boy uncomfortable. Harry take his eyes off the photographs before he felt like he was entering that person's private space. He already felt disgusted, didn't need anymore.

Harry looked at the cold man straight in the eye and shook his head vigorously.

"His name is Edward Cox, or subject W if anyone searches on the company's files.” The cold man turned the page, showing a sheet full of words 

Harry could not understand. “39-year-old prostitute from York; heroin addict. He'd do anything for injection, including going tough conation” page-shifting. “He currently survives thanks to an artificial respirator, but herpes has been developing into meningoencephalitis” Harry did not understand a single word the cold man said. “The scum of society. The government of Great Britain has a record that his mother had him at the age of 15 in the orphanage of St. Lucia belonging to the Catholic Church. He grew up as an orphan as well; he has a record of being sexually assaulted by a man who adopted him at age 9 and...” the man in a scarlet suit kept talking and talking about things Harry didn't understand; things that terrified him.

"Why are you telling me all this? Who are you? Why am I here?”

Harry got up from his seat, throwing the little cup of tea in front of him; suddenly the white and spacious room was suffocating, just as the men present seemed more of a threat than a company.

"Subject W is dying, Harry” the beautiful man spoke; the cold man seemed to want to talk, but the other did not allow it. “It's from him we got genetic material to clone you from.”

Harry walked as far away as he could from the two men _‘clone?._

The beautiful young man closed the folder with the photographs; he did not seem so disgusted by them Like Harry was. The dark-skinned men took off his glasses to smile at him, but he looked so tired that Harry feared even more; tired people used to be more violent and hit him with more enthusiasm.

"I'm Dr. Malik and my partner here is Agent Walker” Malik put his hands up for Harry to see; each word was accompanied by a gesture of them. “We took blood from subject W so we could... do him again. There were a lot of tests that lead the path; years of experimentation in isolated cells, animals, and you were the fruit of that effort, Harry. You're the ray of light at the end of the tunnel” something in the beautiful man's voice seemed to change. “Years of research, Harry, decades of effort took us... to you.”

The beautiful man smiled, walking away from Harry to bring another folder, this time a pink one, not yellow like the other, and something about that reassured him. Inside were photographs of a large building with colorful windows; children were playing in the grass and women dressed in curious ways.

"What do you want from me?” Harry took off his back from the wall, which seemed to cheer Malik up. “I don't know anything, I can't help you. I never met that man, I was never in an orphanage, nor do I even know what that is, and never... never...” the words were attacked in his throat.

"We just want to know you.” Malik walks over to the table.

Malik's eyes were warm; they invited Harry to approach, and he was willing to do so, already had an outstretched hand toward the brown-skinned man who smiled affectionately at him, but Agent Walker interrupted his train of thoughts as he got up from the table and approached him with a terrifying countenance, so Harry could only try to hide in the farthest corner of the room.

"The memories you have, what's the last of them? What's on your mind?” Agent Walker was walking slowly towards Harry, who could only look desperately at Malik in search to help him “a birthday party in the back garden of a huge house?" Harry denied, "a bowl of soup that your loving mother put in front of you? "He denied again “A huge man approaching you and opening your legs to..”

"Dan, stop it. You're scaring him, and that's not the purpose of this test.” Malik was trying to interpose between Agent Walker and Harry.

"Fifteen months ago, this thing was just a trembling mass that couldn't walk or talk” Walker looked straight into the mirror behind Harry. “It's a miracle this piece of gray matter hasn't collapsed so far, and it's a waste of time to talk to him!”

Agent Walker left the room in a storm of anger; whipping the door and leaving Malik with a grim expression. At that moment the beautiful man seemed more tired than before; he reached out to Harry to point the chair in front of him, at the opposite end of the table. Harry knew that out of courtesy he should not turn it down, in return, Malik poured him a new cup of tea before pulling a notebook out of his gridded sack.

"What Agent Walker wants to know, _what we both want to know,_ is if you remember anything besides your stay at _British PHE,"_ Harry denied, he felt tears build up in his eyes. Malik sighed heavily. “I need you to focus, okay?” The brunette smiled so fondly “What's the first thing you remember? What comes to your mind?”

Harry squeezed his lower lip tightly between his teeth until he felt the taste of his blood. If Miss Smith were here, she would already reluctantly open it: she would scold him for not answering the question being asked of him, scold him for biting his lips and hurting himself; she surely had already hit him to his head or slap him in the arm, but Harry could not find himself answering, the words did not pass from his throat and the place appeared to be smaller with Everest passing second, no matter how much affection Mr. Malik put in his smiles or in his gaze, Harry could not concentrate. When he began to feel tears draining down his cheeks he again heard the brown-skinned man sigh.

"Maybe we should start from another approach, yeah?” Malik kept smiling as he cast constant glances into the mirror behind Harry “You know what year it is?”

“2092; July 15” Malik seemed pleased, and that relaxed Harry.

"All right, that's good, now you know where you live?”

"On planet earth, 72nd arrondissement, in Central London," Malik wrote down everything Harry said with a smile, so he wanted to keep talking. “I live in the labs of _British PHE,_ in a wooden room. PHE is the acronym for _"Pharmaceuticals for Human Excellence"._

"It's good that you know where you're standing," he pauses, "How old are you, Harry?”

"I'm 23 years old. February 1st is my birthday” Malik kept scoring, but before he could ask another question Harry came forward to talk “How old are you, Dr. Malik?” The doctor seemed surprised by the question and kept quiet for several seconds before answering.

"31 years old, Harry. Now, if you could tell me...”

"You don't look like the doctors I know. They're all old and wear white robes all the time. And they are mean.”

"No, I'm not like the other doctors you know” the man in front hesitates while still looking at Harry in the eye. “I have a Ph.D. in molecular biology and am taking psychology courses; nothing fancy or that will make me a knowledgeable man, but it helps me understand some basic... aspects.”

Malik kept smiling, so Harry dared to get a little closer to him; to feel his body warmth because he was cold in the white room. The doctor was the most beautiful and young person Harry had ever seen. _'In all your life,'_ said a little voice in his head. The man in front of him had black hair and eyes of a brown hue that under the light of the room seemed golden with so long eyelashes, which, unlike Harry’s green eyes, made him stand out in the white place; all of Dr. Malik stood out.

"You know what a clone is, Harry?” The green-eyed boy denied.

"What's your name, Dr. Malik? Nurse Maricela says we should all have names. She chose mine” the brown-skinned man had stopped writing in his notebook. “I guess she’s the closest thing I have to a mother.”

The beautiful man stood still for a long time, watching Harry, and unlike Agent Walker, Dr. Malik did not intimidate him anymore. He looked soft under his big glasses and his elegant gridded suit. He began writing in his notebook, on a new sheet he showed Harry. His handwriting was delicate and small, unlike the messy, large one the curly boy had.

"My name is Zain Javadd Malik, but I like to write my name with a 'y' as well," he wrote his name again on the sheet. “My father's name is Yaser and my mother Tricia; I am a son of God, or Allah if you ask me.”

"What is a son of God?”

Zayn seemed willing to answer all his questions, but a voice, that Harry did not know exactly where came from, fill the room asking for Dr. Malik to leave as soon as possible to speak in private.

Harry hadn't noticed, but when the voice spoke he had been scared enough to jump into his seat and take Zayn’s wrist, who kindly took his hand off before getting up and leaving the place. When Harry turned to the huge mirror, he noticed at the top a bright red dot flashing.

"What the hell are you doing, Malik?” The voice of a person Harry didn't know echoed all over the place, scaring him even more. “This was supposed to be a reconnaissance session, not a tea date.”

"I know, sir, but the approach Agent Walker and I were having with Harry...”

"Subject W 0.2, you mean.”

Harry felt uncomfortable listening, not only because they were talking about him, but because he didn't know who one of the voices belonged to, let alone saw Zayn in the room, so he focused his gaze on the cup of tea.

"Yes, the subject W 0.2” Zayn sounded exasperated. “The previous reports indicate that he has a delicate temperament and is altered with strong emotions.”

"A chicken chick" that was Walker's voice.

"My point is, even if he has some memory of subject W, he won't tell us if we keep yelling at him and showing disturbing photographs of a dying man full of errors in his body.”

"What if he doesn't have them? The memories I mean" was the voice of the stranger again. “Part of the experiment is to ensure complete neural transfer; if we have no guarantee of that, then we should start running a new experiment.”

"God, with all due respect, he is the only boy who lived; he is adapting and needs further exploration and we are having a bad approach. Maybe we can...”

"It's a shaky walking mass” Walker was getting angrier and angrier according to his tone of voice.

"He's the first to survive. He learned to walk, he learned to speak, for Christ's sake, that's just a feat for science, and most importantly he hasn't had a cell decay just like the other subjects of the W-test.”

Harry approached the mirror, he couldn't see through it, but he could sense Malik's frustration sneaking out.

"So what is your proposal, Dr. Malik?” The unknown voice spoke again.

"We have to get him out of the labs and take him to an environment...”

"Shit! Who forgot to turn off the microphone?” Walker spoke again.

Suddenly Harry became again enveloped by a sepulchral silence, so he touched the mirror. In a blink the mirror was cleared enough to let Agent Walker be seen in front of him, pressing buttons furiously as a woman was shouting at him; an older man was in front of Zayn speaking, but the golden-eyed man did not seem to be paying attention to him, instead of looking at Harry with defeated eyes, and that was something he did not want to feel; the guilt of hurting the most beautiful man he had ever met.

_'Maybe Miss Smith was right, I always manage to disappoint people, even if I don't say a word,'_ Harry thought to himself. He turned to the table with his cup of tea and devoted himself to hug himself; there wasn’t nurse Maricela to bring him an extra blanket or tell him that everything would be fine.

With every hour passing, Harry was starving a little more, and knew deep down that those men who spoke will no return for him; the clock on the wall was already marking 11 when a woman in a military suit entered the room to take him away; She drove him down the same intricate path he had entered so many hours ago, so Harry could see the woman's little figure again, but the military did not let him stop to admire it, instead, she pushes him to the front door where Zayn was standing. He was no longer wearing the jacket of his suit or tie, and under better examination, he was a couple of inches lower than him, but that didn't stop Harry from feeling fear when he looks directly at the green-eyed man, fear-filled his body much more when Agent Walker approached them in great steps; he hands over many papers to the brown-skinned man. 

"I'll explain to you everything you need in the car, Harry," Zayn smiled wide, though one could tell to miles away that the expression was false, the curly boy would rather be with him than Walker. “It'll be all right, I promise. Now, please, let’s o.”

Zayn opened the door of the building so Harry could get through first. There was no longer the pharmaceutical company's car, much less the people who had escorted him that morning, and although the car waiting for them was much more elegant than the ones Harry used to see on TV. Zayn, so gallant, helped him climb up in the front and then surround the car and put himself in the pilot's seat; star the car was easy enough for Zayn for just to touch a button that read his fingerprint to turn the machine on; a woman's voice asked varying things Harry didn't pay much attention to, as his mind began to wander on the voice that existed in his room: Adam.

The robot voice always reminded him when he had to take his medications, alerted him when he had a visitor—whether was a doctor for his constant studies or Maricela, who brought him a gift—and the principal reason Harry loved Adam so much: as long as the green-eyed boy couldn't fall asleep, Adam kept him company, told him funny stories, asked him if he needed anything. It was a good voice, and even if Harry didn't know Leila, Zayn’s car voice, he notices it he wasn't so friendly or warm; were a little like the golden-eyed man.

"It's a long ride to our destination” Zayn didn't take his eyes off the road or his hands off the wheel. “I'm going to need to get down to load the car” Harry hadn't even noticed the moment they started the flight. “Okay?”

" _British_ _PHE_ is on the other side of town, Dr. Malik," Harry pointed a finger over the window at where he lived.

"We're not going there, Harry.”

Zayn gave no further hints of their destination, so Harry would rather keep quiet and admire the scenery. There were only a few trees on the streets, but the further they went, they became more constant and a darker green than Harry could see thanks to the lights that were scattered everywhere, even over the wooded areas. So bright.

After a while traveling, Harry only took his eyes off the landscape to look at Zayn, who looked increasingly tired, even when they descended to a huge property, with the prospect of a warm bed, Zayn seemed to be wanting to escape to his own skin at any time so Harry followed him very closely in fear of getting lost. They keep quiet from the moment they descended from the car to the kitchen.

"You don't have to follow me all the time, Harry.”

"You're the only person I know here," Zayn bit his lips. “You have a nice house, Dr. Malik.”

"It's not my house," he said quickly and so hard that Harry went back several steps, so he could have space. More space. “I could never afford a place like this; these kinds of properties cost millions and a simple doctor like me cannot...” the golden eyes looked at Harry with doubt.

Zayn sighed heavily before going to the fridge as Harry tried to give him his space and go explore the room adjoining the kitchen, which consisted of the dining room; next to the light switch was a voice assistant button for the home; was a new model, so Harry could read in the small inscription. The symbol of the pharmacist was also marked on the plaque.

By pressing the button an asexual projection appeared in front of Harry; there was a complex board next to the figure that would help shape the voice assistant.

"Harry?” Zayn's voice called him from the kitchen How long had he been watching the projection?

Zayn was sitting in front of the table which was in the center of the kitchen with two dishes of oats and raisins; he extended one to Harry and offered him a seat with a quick gesture.

"I know it's too late” the clock mark 12:40 “but we didn't feed you at the station all day, and I’m sorry about that, but...”

"Why are we here?” Zayn wouldn't answer and didn't even know how to look at Harry. “Why can't I go back to my room in the labs?”

"Harry...” Zayn's voice was cautious.

"After dinner will I be left alone again?”

"No, Harry, I'll stay here with you. I’ll be here all the time.”

"Agent Walker will come too?” Zayn seemed to sense his fear, and after a few seconds took Harry's wrist in his hand.

"It will only be you and me, Harry” the green-eyed boy hesitate to tell Zayn about the voice assistant. “This will be like being in your room in the labs, but here, with me.”

"Will you test me like the other doctors?”

"No," Zayn finally let him go to take his spoon. “My tests... they will be simple, nothing invasive or over-stimulating. Now eat, tomorrow you can worry about the rest.”

Harry did not try a bite even when Zayn seemed to encourage him to eat, but the curly boy was unwilling to give in. The tests at the pharmacist were always invasive, always painful and in that huge house, there was neither Maricela to encourage him nor Adam to keep him company, so, by staying alone in his room he could not help but compare everything with his small space in the pharmaceutical company.

This was a huge room with nothing but a silver bed and desk; on the walls was nothing but painting, there were no drawings Harry made constantly and doctors sometimes let him keep, only a few, most of them were images of open places and birthday parties like the ones he constantly saw on television.

By the time dawn made the blinds open wide, Harry's way back to the kitchen to prepare breakfast; two extra eggs for Zayn, in case he woke up and wanted to eat or if he was still on the property Harry will have an excuse to see him closer, or he could go exploring around the extensive gardens that reached as far as Harry could see, barely populated by a few automatons who took care of things; of the statues, shrubs, fruit trees and rose bushes that covered the perimeter of the house.

"You got up early” a scratchy voice pulled Harry out of his dream.

Zayn was wearing a satin robe that poorly covered his chest and tattoo-covered arms, so Harry looked at him in more detail, this time pulling his body completely away from the window so he could observe the brown-skinned man in front of him. He had his hair in a mess, skin shiny by sweat, and behind his huge black paste glasses, his eyes seemed more awake, kinder than the night before.

"I rise with the sun” Harry served him a plate full of scrambled eggs with tomatoes and spinach. Something was off in Zayn’s face.

"It doesn't say in your record that you know how to cook," Zayn looks suspiciously at the food. “But thank you very much, Harry, I'm starving.”

"Maricela used to get me out of the wooden room to take me to the dining rooms so she could make me something special to eat. Those were the only times I came out of those four walls, as well as for the studios, but those were ugly times... painful.”

"Did you learn all this just from watching Maricela cook?” Harry nodded. “Amazing .”

At the very moment Zayn ate the first bite, Harry set aside his food so that he could admire the brown-skinned man, who, despite his cheeky gaze, kept smiling at him, and the curly boy was happy that Miss Smith was not there or otherwise she had already reprimanded him or taken him out of there to lock him up in a dark room for his bad behavior.

For the rest of the day, long and endless hours, it consisted of the 'tests' that Dr. Malik had prepared for Harry, which, unlike those in _PHE Laboratories,_ were simply questions with images while Zayn wrote everything down on a wrist computer. As the questions passed and Harry became increasingly frustrated to answer 'no' to each of them, the anger in the brown-skinned man was more evident, even if he tried to disguise it after polite smiles. At some point, after his fifth _no_ in a round _,_ Harry get up from the armchair in the living room so that he could walk hastily to the back door, the one that overlooked the yellow rose bushes.

He didn't scream when he was outside, he didn't kneel to cry, or try to run away like he thought the night before, not just because Zayn had walked after him for a fraction of a second after he got up. He wanted to do it, more than anything he felt like this was his chance, run to the thick green that covered the view several miles to the horizon, but how far he could go before an automaton stopped him? And even if he was able to pass them and get to the woods to cover himself with the trees, would it be a long time before _they_ find him? This time will he be dead at the end of the day? The last time he had escaped from the labs he had hurt a nurse in the head pretty bad, but the door code he stole had alerted the entire building, so if Harry got to run through five streets before feeling the electric shock in his back he might be proud. But that time Maricela didn't visit him for more than a month and Miss Smith beat him constantly with a wooden stick for every slight mistake he made, even when he decided to keep quiet to avoid saying the wrong thing. These were the worst.

But Zayn didn't yell at him, don't hit him, he didn’t even try to touch him or talk to him, he just slept behind him, just stood like a statue, enduring the icy winds that seemed to want to rip their faces off.

"It'll rain soon, Harry. We should go back in.”

The sky was black, and with the air, the clouds were likely to last less time, so Harry could attribute the tremor in Zayn's voice to the rain, or the prospect that the green-eyed young man might flee. Harry was sure that Dr. Malik had already read his files from start to end, so he'd know his intentions well, but when he turned to see those golden eyes, Harry could only nod and accompany Zayn to the main room; they didn't continue with the experiments or the questions.

Zayn didn't speak when an automaton gives them dishes with steaming food or when he retreated to his room, nor did he protest when Harry followed him with his gaze until he lost Zayn at the end of the stairs.

Harry couldn’t fall asleep that night either.

Zayn wasn't on the property the next day, and Harry could say that because as soon as he set a naked foot outside the huge room he didn't hear a single noise, nor did he even hear the constant hum of automatons in the gardens. The birds barely sang, but it was the first time Harry had heard them outside a musical book or on television, so he did not bother to put on more clothes than the pajama pants he was already wearing; in that sprawling place there was no one to impress or constantly obey, and since Zayn was gone, he didn't want to look good either.

The doors inside the house had no codes to open or close, so Harry occupied his entire morning walking around the perimeter, feeling the damp grass under his feet.

The property was sheltered at the front of the house by a huge 3-meter long fence, which needed a 17-digit code to open and surrounded the entrance; if he looked at the fence, on the sides it had huge red stone walls, and even if Harry thought it was to keep everyone out, he felt it would be just to keep people inside. But what kind of people? Towards the back of the property, nothing was close, as there was a large forest of huge trees, among them the particularly large and red ones which, according to the book Harry had read, helped with the air, even if the curly did not fully understand how they did it.

Passing along to the gardening automatons and flooring the land of the wooded edge, an old-fashioned robot prevented him from passing by, repeating again and again that he was about to leave the property, in which ended the 72nd arrondissement, five meters of no man's land and began the 73rd. After several attempts to dodge it, Harry gave up, so he returned to the huge house to entertain himself by checking the rooms that were not his, so despite the guilt he felt, the first place he checked was Zayn's room: it was the same as his in design and space, but it contained large amounts of photographs in addition to pieces of casual clothing scattered across each piece of furniture that would take the clothes away from the floor.

While Harry was looking at a photograph where Zayn was surrounded by women very similar to him, a screen lighted up on the desk, it was a message read just before an attachment:

" _Subject W 0.2, neural activation procedure._

_Subject W 0.3 and W 0.7_ _cell isolation and decay._ "

The screen was hidden back on the desktop before Harry could deploy the files, and even though he knew how to do that, he wouldn't know what to do with the information, he didn't even know the meaning _of neural_ activation, let alone _cellular_ _decay_ even though it was something Agent Walker had mentioned with Zayn in the room behind the mirror.

_'If only I could have Adam here to explain that to me.'_

Harry ran to his room to turn on the voice assistant switch for the home; the asexual figure reappeared in front of him, so he pressed parts of his body that deployed various physical characteristics, _so_ Harry designed someone lower than him, with brown hair like Maricela's, with white skin and toasted with honey; thick legs and delicate features. He tries to make it even more beautiful than Zayn, but no matter how much beauty Harry gave to the voice assistant, it could never compare to the heat Zayn had, nor could it emit an aroma as marked to tobacco as the golden-eyed man, so after several attempts to improve the figure, Harry decided only to name him: there were three default options for men and women: Adam, Louis, André, Charlotte, Leila, and Gabrielle. He didn't want another Adam, let alone another Leila.

When he finished setting up the voice assistant, a beautiful boy smiled in his direction.

"Hi, my name is Louis” the voice sounded robotic, like Leila “I'll be your personal assistant to...”

“What does cell decay mean?” Louis smiled at him like he were a corpse.

“I'm sorry, but that may refer to _British_ _PHE_ classified material. If you would like me to ask for authorization to answer your question...”

"No, don't tell anyone.”

“Understood. If you need something else call me by my name in the default rooms and I will gladly help you.”

Just like that, Louis disappeared into thin air. No 10 seconds passed when Zayn's voice called Harry from the ground floor. The beautiful brunette-skinned man with golden eyes seemed very happy when he saw Harry come down the stairs; suddenly Harry was ashamed to look so misaligned. The felt of Zayn’s red cheeks and piercing gaze on his body did not help the cause. He had never felt this way before, even when all the doctors who saw him naked every day in his room didn’t manage to inhibit him with a single smile like the golden-eyed man just did.

"I have some good news, Harry. I’ve spoken to other colleagues and come to a solution to our problems. We will do exercises for...”

“Neural activation?”

"Yes, exactly, how did you know?” Zayn looked suspicious again.

"You mentioned it yesterday.” Say Harry without a fleck.

"Oh ye’? Well, whatever. Tomorrow we'll start with activation.”

Harry put his arms around his stomach to protect himself, moving away from Zayn, who approached him with slow movements. By the time the brunette-skinned man was touching Harry's arm, the curly felt his heart speed up his pace.

"It's not like other tests back in the labs, Harry. I would never let them hurt you. Never. No only because you’re a miracle, but because you’re human too...” Zayn moved his hand slowly from Harry’s elbow to his hand. “Trust me, okay? I'll take care of you.”

Harry barely had time to move his mouth when Zayn embraced him. He was the first person in his life, _his whole life,_ to embrace him.

**Author's Note:**

> Cloning scientists have faced several challenges in this field, one of them is the achievement of ensuring a viable clone, which until now has only been carried out in animals, which, many of them, do not survive to the embryonic stage. and end in abortions, while those who are born can have various health problems. In this internet article you can learn more about cloning: 
> 
> https://www.karger.com/Article/Fulltext/452444
> 
> Having established the above, one of the challenges or fears is that once the clone reaches the donor's age, it begins to die, or to have a cellular deterioration in which the cells of the clone begin to die.
> 
> Do not be left with only the little information that I gather to write this story, there are many articles on cloning and there is the sheep Dolly, who marked a new era for this area of science.


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